Whispered Secrets in Shadows

Ever since I started bartending, there's been this woman who comes in twice a week. She always orders gin and tonics and sits by the window, watching everyone else but never joining their conversations. We've only exchanged polite nods until one night, after closing up late, she asked me if I ever played out scenarios where she was my little under strict rules, no talking back or arguing. It felt like a dream at first, her hands sliding over my hips as she whispered how much she wanted to be disciplined and treated like a child again. My heart raced, but I didn't flinch when I told her yes, that I could give her exactly what she craved. The way she looked up at me then, with those eyes full of need and longing, it felt powerful, yet vulnerable too. We agreed on boundaries right there, in the back alley behind our bar, with the cool pavement under my hands as she leaned into me. It's been weeks now since that night, and every time I see her during the day shift, all I can think about is pulling her aside at closing for a few more moments of being her Domme. The rush isn't just in how we touch or talk; it’s knowing how much control she hands over to me, and feeling this strange mix of strength and tenderness when I take that control. It's scary, exhilarating, and completely different from anything else I've ever done.